Staunch of the Cynic
by CloverRock
Summary: “…And I …I don’t know what to do” It wasn’t the words that had frozen Dean on the spot. No, it was the voice: The helplessness in it, the sheer vulnerability that hovered in every syllable, the honesty… and the familiarity [Slash SFDT]
1. Chapter one

**Disclaimer: **If you can recognise it, it isn't mine. All characters property of Joanne Kathleen Rowling, Literary Goddess, and all I am not making a profit from this whatsoever. If I was, do you _think_ I would be working a minimum wage, slacker approved job? I'm writing for my own amusement (which is very easy satisfied) and hopefully yours too.

I would really appreciate your thoughts on this; I know that Religion/Witchcraft/Slash makes for a _slightly _controversial story… And by slightly I mean big, fat, gobfuls of controversial- and I would like to sincerely apologise if I offend anyone throughout. _Let me know if I have_. I'm not saying that this is an invitation for flames or anything, but I like to be conscious of who I've upset and why.

It won't change that fact that I'll be writing this, though. We all have a right to our own opinion, and this is mine- Religion and homosexuality can coincide together nicely. That isn't a _CloverRock_ism, it's truly what my religion, or at least the denomination of the Christian Church that I am part of, believes.

But, as a general warning _now_- **the plot of this story is based on _Slash_ **(of the male/male persuasion)** and Religion** (But not _bashing_. God no. There may be some personal thoughts of the characters that I am writing that could reflect a negative view of religion, but let us remember … they are _figments of my imagination_….)

That said…

This isn't going to be an overly _heavy_ story. I actually think that it's rather light and funny. I hope that you enjoy it!

On with the show!

**-----**

**Staunch of the Cynic**

-----

_Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas. All else is outward display--so much tinsel and decorations. For it isn't the holly, it isn't the snow. It isn't the tree not the firelight's glow. It's the warmth that comes to the hearts of men when the Christmas spirit returns again.  
**--Unknown**_

-----

**Prologue**

-----

After the funeral for Professor Dumbledore, a divide of sorts formed in the wizarding world. There wouldn't be a letter coming in the mail this year for young witches and wizards just eleven, or a list of books for the wizened students. No, there would be no Hogwarts at all. Not that year.

The Order of the Phoenix worked relentlessly- espionage, trials, and battlefields. They started off with an advantage, they had Dumbledore, 'The only one he'd ever feared'. After his passing, a moral had grown amongst the Death Eaters; they felt as though half the battle had been won. They thought that they had the upper hand.

But their fearless leader disclosed little to his minions, even his most trusted.

They _never_ had the upper hand, and he had known it. Not with what Dumbledore had left behind- the knowledge that he had planted in his students. Compassion.

The lack of said compassion, Ginny said, was what _really_ brought his demise.

It was Ginny, who had taken it upon herself to deliver Dean's letter the following summer, explained it all to him. He had lived the last year completely cut off from the rest of his world. Though he was legally of age, he feared, and with good justification, that even the simplest spell would lead the Death Eaters to his location. They wouldn't take his defenceless two year old brother or any of his siblings, his pregnant mother, his stern, but ill father into consideration. The Death Eaters didn't show pity.

He remembered hearing the doorbell ring, and got up with some annoyance from his comfortable position on the couch, muttering a quick apology to the person on the other end of the phone. He had _not_ expected to see a familiar girl standing on his porch, smiling mischievously and clutching an envelope in her outstretched hand.

He had never properly explained what happened to the unfortunate subject of his conversation, who was suddenly cut off and not called back for two days.

"Dean, you look well!"

"…"

"I know, 'You do too, Ginny'. I have your Hogwarts letter. They've decided to send people who were more involved with the war and such to deliver them. We can explain shit better, I guess. How've you been?"

"…"

"Yea, I got it, 'Well, good I guess, Ginny. I've missed seeing your lovely face every day!'. I've been getting that a lot. Hey, can I come in? It's hot out here."

When she said that the war was over for _good_, could have been one of the happiest moments of his life. Top ten, at least. He embraced her tightly, and she muttered a 'And I thought we'd agreed to "just be friends"' but she didn't loosen her grip, and her voice did sound a little watery.

And that was how Deans seventh year started. A bit late … but real. Definitely the way that it was supposed to be. No threat of evil overlords- The constant fear of being muggle-born in a pure-blood favoured society, gone.

All that was left was …

"Hey, has anyone heard from-"

"-Hermione's supposed to deliver his letter." Ginny said warmly, giving him a little wink. "But I should go. I have a bunch more of these to deliver in London. Big city, this is!"

He nodded, and they said their good-byes. She'd changed, he noticed- she was still the quick talking and witty Ginny she had been over a year ago, but she was … harder now. She'd seen too much, done too much, only just seventeen. He had wondered how many others had changed since the end of their sixth year. He hadn't seen anyone since…

He put all those thoughts in the back of his mind- deciding to open his letter. Familiarity washed over him, and he ran his thumb across the wax seal with the Hogwarts Crest, feelings the little rivets and bubbles. It must have been done in a rush, he imagined, there were a lot that needed to be delivered- a double batch of students entering first year, only two weeks before the term was meant to start.

He sat back and sighed. A weight had been lifted off his chest. Everything in the room … it seemed more…

Bright.

-----

_**Chapter one: The Day That I, Dean Thomas, Almost Killed My Best Friend.**_

December of Seventh Year

-----

Dean took another generous swig of his Butterbeer-nog before slamming it down on the table, wiping the foam away from his upper lip and scowling. Shoulders hunched, he pulled his cloak a little tighter around his neck so it was almost covering his ears. He glared into his now 'half-_empty'_ (for he was _not_ in an optimistic enough mood to assume half-full) mug, swishing the contents around so aggressively that some of the liquid sloshed over the edge and covered his fingers. He managed a satisfied -- if not slightly deranged -- little smile as he clenched his fist so it squelched between his digits and drip onto his napkin making little golden circles.

"Now what do we have here?" A fluffy voice chirped from his left.

"I don't know, Lav. Looks a little like Deany, don't 'ya think?" Came an equally fluffy voice, in a slightly lower tone, from his right.

"Hmm?" The first person said, flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulders, grabbing his chin and yanking it forcefully towards her. "Well … maybe-" she was squeezing cheeks a little closer together,"-it's certainly the right _colour_ and everything. But…"

"-Wait! What's this?" Pavarti grabbed his dry hand off the table and gasped dramatically, "Charcoal under its fingernails! It _must_ be Dean!"

Lavender contemplated this a little, removing her death-grip on Dean's visage and placing a finger to her chin in what he supposed she thought was an 'erudite' pose. "That's true, Pav. Our Deany _is_ a manicurist's worst nightmare-" Pavarti was nodding solemnly, "-But that doesn't explain why he's alone. And pouting."

"I'm not pouting," He pouted, glaring into his drink again.

"-_Or_" Pavarti continued after Lavender as though Dean hadn't said anything, "-Harassing that normally warm and cheerful holiday beverage." She said, taking a seat next to him, and resting her chin on her hands, "What's wrong?"

He scowled at the mug, "Nothing."

"Liar." Lavender said, sitting in a stance similar to Pavarti's on his right. "Where are your other half's?"

"-Thirds." Pavarti added wisely, helping herself to one of the remaining chocolate frogs amongst a small mountain of wrappers skewed across the table. Every couple of inches there would be a tattered chocolate limb or head, suggesting they had met a somewhat violent end…

"Um. Right, sure-" Lavender finished with a blank look. "-Where are they?"

"Where are who?" He said moodily through clenched teeth, though he knew _exactly_ who she was talking about.

"Well, Adam of course. And Seamus."

"Seamus had Quidditch." He muttered. The Irish boy had improved _greatly_ since their sixth year, stating that 'there wasn't much _else_ to do for fourteen bloody months, now was there.' Dean had been more than happy to resign from the team, the sport had somehow lost its appeal and he was just as happy to spend his nights lounging in the common room, thank-you-very-much.

"And …?"

"…"

Lavender and Pavarti exchanged a look, then sighed and nodded. Dean rolled his eyes. He _hated_ it when they gave each other that look. It was like they shared one brain…

"That would explain the chocolate-" Lavender said.

"And the scowling-" Pavarti said.

Lavender clicked her tongue an placed a supportive arm around his shoulders, "-He broke up with you." Pavarti gave a little nod and squeezed his hand in pity.

The blond sniffed, "And so close to Christmas…"

Dean shrugged away and tried to look offended, "He did not!"

The girls both pulled back and stared at him in confusion.

"-I broke up with him." He murmured quietly. The arm was back around his shoulder and his hand was being squeezed again. He suppressed an annoyed groan.

"Awww!" they chorused, and Dean glanced around to see if anybody was watching. This was pathetic.

"Get off." He hissed quietly, causing them to cling on tighter.

"Why'd you break up with him, Deany?" Lavender asked in a squeaky little voice. Pavarti nodded. He shrugged.

"Did he do something to you?" Pavarti asked so defensively that he almost smiled.

"No."

"Then what?" Lavender asked again.

He rolled his eyes, "It just-" he shrugged, "wasn't working out." When both girls raised their eyebrows in disbelief, he sighed, "He wasn't my type, ok?"

Lavender nodded understandingly, "Well, I didn't like him from the start-"

"Just 'cause he turned you down." Pavarti interjected, causing the blonde to scowl.

"That's not true." She said, though it was. "He's too serious. Too boring. Too-"

"-Ravenclaw." Pavarti interrupted, causing both girls to giggle.

"Exactly." She said, smiling, "All _wrong_ for our Deany."

Pavarti nodded "Anyway, there are far more _attractive_ homosexual fish in the proverbial sea." She said, smiling brightly.

Dean snorted. "Name one."

"Draco Malfoy!"

"He. Is. _Not._ Gay!" Lavender screeched. It was a long time argument between the two friends- exactly what_ was_ Malfoy's sexual orientation? The age old question…

"Yea, _okay_, Whatever." Pavarti rolled her eyes towards Dean, who pretended not to notice.

"'Sides," Levender continued, "He's been _boring_ this year. I haven't heard him say a word outside of class."

"Terry Boot." Pavarti said.

"Not gay either."

"How do you know?"

"Oh." Lavender said wryly, "I know."

"Slut." Her friend said fondly, "Fine, uh, Harry!"

"_Definitely_ not." She grinned and Dean shuddered, "Oh, I don't know first hand. Let's just say I caught him and Miss. Weasley in a compromising position-"

"-That doesn't mean anything! Dean used to date Ginny, too, and look who _he's_ interested in now."

"I'm just saying…"

"Please, stop there." Dean said holding up his hand.

"Anthony?" Pavarti continued.

"Nope."

"Michael."

"No way."

"Ernie."

"Straight. And taken."

"Blaise?"

"Nope."

As the girls continued to list off names, Dean took another lethargic sip of his Butterbeer, glancing around the pub while trying to think up an excuse to leave. He could say that he needed to get … more presents! But … no. They would probably want to come with him. He could say that he was buying _them_ presents … except that would mean he _would_ actually have to buy them something. He could say he needed to buy a new quill … no, the quill shop was right next to that bloody shop that sold unbelievably expensive designer dress robes- and they would _make_ him go in there. He could say he needed … uh …a new book! Lavender wouldn't set _foot_ in a bookstore unless she had to, and Pavarti wouldn't abandon her best friend. It was perfect-

"Seamus?"

"Oh, absolutely."

Dean choked on his Butterbeer-nog. The bookstore could wait.

-----

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

As shoes met dead leaves with a satisfying crackle between his feet and the ground, Seamus shoved his fingers a little further into his pockets grasping for some non-existent warmth and glared at the dense clouds circling overhead.

"Okay. It's just you and me!" He said.

He stood up a bit taller, thrusting his shoulders back and tilting his chin towards the sky.

"-So, if there's anything that you want to, yeh know, _tell_ me, do so NOW!" He flailed his arms out and scrunched his eyes.

…

…

…

He opened one just a little.

Nothing.

He sighed, slouching again, but raised his hands.

"Com'on! I need something to _work_ with here!" He finished with an impatient groan. "You can't just _make_ me, and then not give me anything to work with…"

He trailed off, walking towards a big stump in the centre of the small clearing.

"Look, I'm not going to sit back and say 'Oh, I'm an abomination I guess.' No, I don't work that way, you know that- _you_ made me this way and _you_ are going to help me! Show me where to go! Show me … Show me what to DO!"

…

…

…

This was frustrating. Oh, He may have been almighty, but He _really_ had to work on His communication skills.

"Look! I've held up _my_ part of the bargain. I get up early every Sunday to go to Mass- Do you realise that there are only thirty-two people in my school who go to church! _Thirty-two!_ Out of what, a _thousand- _I think that I deserve a bit of a break, here. And yea, I drink a little-" a lot "-and I might curse a bit-" a lot "- but I'm basically a good person when you get past that, you know. I highly recommend you to all my friends, and I give you great word of mouth…"

Well, it wasn't a lie- Seamus rarely had a conversation without adding a 'Jesus Merciful Christ' Or 'Holy mother of God!' somewhere along the way.

"You know- You're suppose to _answer_ me. That's how prayers go. I ask- you give. I understand that you're probably pretty busy, "'Tis the Season" and whatnot … But think of it as a … a Christmas bonus! I worked hard for you all year- now I get my little Christmas pick-me-up…

"…And…" He said, falling helplessly onto a large clear-cut stump, "…I just… I need a … a _sign_." He swallowed a little as his voice faded, and tried again, "Yes. A sign." He nodded with conviction, got comfortable, closed his eyes, and waited…

…

…

…

Something cold hit his cheek.

"What the hell…?" He brushed it away and glanced around. Little shiny specks of white were falling lightly around him. He looked down at his jeans, where tiny flecks were landing with growing rapidity. He wiped his finger across the light blue fabric…

"Snow?"

He tilted his chin skywards.

"Snow? You give me bloody _SNOW_! You call _this_ a sign! If you read your own book, you'd know a sign is-is _Angels_ descending from heaven with harps and divine words from the Creator! Or-Or a _prophecy_. Even the Black-bloody-_Plague_ makes more sense than SNOW! I _hate_ snow! You're giving me _SNOW?_"

He stood up suddenly, pacing around his stump.

"That's _not_ what I meant by a sign! You know its not like you're not working with '_Job'_ here. I can't interpret things like this!" He chuckled angrily, "I'm not that good at anything that makes me think… metaphorically… or allegorically… Or however the hell I'm supposed to be thinking right now. I'm a fairly blunt person. A Straight-" or not so much "-to-the-point kinda guy!"

He stomped to the far side of the clearing, observing the thin sheet of snow that he was marking with his feet. He stepped onto a fallen log draped in sheer white flakes of the said offender, craning his neck as far upwards as he could, and raising his hands above his head.

"So- So _show_ me. Give me something _clear_. Show me what you want me to- to do with this … this burden? Curse? _Gift_? I don't _know_ what it is. And I …I don't know what to do-" His hands fell to his sides, and his eyelids suddenly felt very heavy.

"Please?" He asked quietly. "Please, _please_, Lord. Look what I've been reduced too. I'm _begging_ for answers, God. Please. Please just _show me_…"

"Seamus?"

It happened in an instant. He whipped his head quickly towards the person standing a few feet away, at the other edge of the clearing. He felt his feet give out from the slippery log that he had been standing on, and he fell back hard, letting out a little yelp.

_Whip._

_Slip._

"Aaah!"

_**Crack.**_

"Seamus! Oh my God!"

Pain. Pain like Seamus had rarely felt, coursing through his head and back. Everything was starting to fade, fuzzy darkness invading. He didn't get up- he couldn't if he tried. Someone came into his line of vision. Someone familiar.

"Can you hear me? Seamus? Seamus! Keep your eyes open, look at me!"

He fought to hold onto the image, but the adversary haze swamped his sight, winning.

He felt like smiling, but his face wasn't co-operating. The person in front of him was vanishing, his words growing more and more muffled, diminishing into calm and suddenly welcomed nothingness.

'**_That_**-' Seamus thought with satisfaction, '-_is much better than snow_.'

And everything disappeared into black.

-----

Dean hovered behind the Mediwitch, balancing on the balls of his feet trying to get a better look over her shoulder. She backed up suddenly, nearly knocking him over, and glared menacingly.

"Sorry." He said, though it lacked sincerity, and quickly darted around her towards the stiff-sheeted hospital bed that she had just finished making. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Mr. Thomas, if you _wouldn't mind-"_ She glared down at him; He glared back- equally venomous.

"I'm not leaving."

She sighed and muttered something under her breath, but didn't press the issue. Shooting one last scathing look over behind her, she bustled over to a large store-cupboard on the walls and began pulling out various potions and ointments. Dean sunk into a chair next to his friends' bed.

His eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily, but his face was blank. Usually when Seamus slept he would be smiling and laughing a little or frowning or muttering incoherently, never just blank.

But, It wasn't like Dean had _watched_ him sleep or anything. Just, you know, common knowledge and, er, whatnot.

He had heard his friend before he had seen him, walking back on the worn path to Hogwarts, mind clouded with his own miserable, _non_-festive thoughts.

"…_I don't know what it is. And I …I don't know what to do-"_

It wasn't the words that had frozen Dean on the spot. No, it was the voice: The helplessness in it, the sheer vulnerability that hovered in every syllable, the honesty… and the familiarity.

He had checked over his shoulder, making sure that no one was coming down the path. It might look a little weird just stopping in the middle of a road and then walking head-on into the forest. Satisfied with the isolation, he pushed past some of the underbrush and found himself in a small clearing.

A boy, only ten metres away or so, was standing on a log- head down and arms to his side. He was mumbling something that Dean couldn't hear, apparently unaware of the little white snowflakes falling on his shoulders and in his hair. Clad in a tan leather coat that Dean had recognised a second later and a pair of jeans, he spoke four words that sent a cold shiver down Deans' back without justification.

"…_Please just show me_…"

His breath had caught in his throat.

"_Seamus_?"

He looked down at the auburn-blond headed boys' face, frowning and reaching out to ruffle his hair. It was still wet from the snow, and his cheeks still flushed a rosy pink colour like the tip of his nose. He looked so… angelic…

"Excuse me." The medic said sternly from behind him. Dean jumped a bit, but moved out of the way, not taking his eyes of his friend.

"_Enervate" _She pointed her wand at his head and then poured a half a cup of some purple-foaming potion into a mug. Seamus blinked his eyes slowly…

"Huh…?" He said groggily, trying to boost himself up on his elbows, only to grab his head, moan and fall back down gain.

"Don't try to _sit-up_ boy! You need rest!" She mothered him a bit, using a spell to give him the potion with out him actually _doing_ anything but swallow it, and then rubbed a clear ointment on a little scrape across his cheek. He hissed, and Dean winced for his friend when it began to let off a bit of steam, but Pomfrey gave a content nod.

"You'll stay here tonight, of course. You have a concussion and need to be monitored, and I imagine that you won't be leaving Monday either, but we will see when the time comes."

"Mmm." Seamus said, smiling blankly. Dean felt a pang of guilt; he hadn't _meant_ to make Seamus fall.

"And you-" She said turning to the black boy, "-Five minutes. You can come back tomorrow when he's feeling better."

Dean wrinkled his nose, but seeing that the nurse wasn't going to give in this time he moaned a bit, and snarled, "Fine."

She nodded curtly before closing the hangings and going to attend another student complaining of hiccups that made sparks come out his ears. He turned slowly towards the shorter boy who was staring at the curtains with a pleased little smirk.

"Uh, how you feeling?" He asked. Seamus turned to him as though he just noticed he was there.

"Oh, me? Great, never better, thanks Dean!" He said very cheerfully, but with glazed eyes.

"Oh…good. Um, how about your head?"

"My head?"

"Yea, you hit your head." He said slowly, as if talking to a four-year-old. Seamus scrunched up his brow in concentration, crinkling his nose a bit in that oh-so-adorable way that Dean loved.

"I did?"

"Yes." Dean said, trying to cover up the anxiety in his voice. Had Seamus lost his mind?

"Oh, it's kinda … fuzzy. And echo-y." He said, plastering that blank smiled on his face again, blinking heavily and yawning.

"You should go to sleep."

"'M not tired" he slurred, Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Right…" He leaned forwards in his seat a seat a bit, so he was closer to the Irish boys' face. Seamus turned his neck towards him. "Hey Shay…"

"Mmm?"

"What." He started, shrugging his shoulders a little, trying to get the muscles to relax, "-What were you doing out in the forest?"

Seamus's vacant look remained in tack for a second, before a thin layer of realisation seemed to wash over him. "Oh. I was getting a sign."

"A … sign?"

"Mmhmm. An' you know what?" He said happily, leaning a little closer to Dean and whispering like he had a big secret. Dean furrowed his brow, but played along.

"What?"

"You're it!"

"Huh?"

"Yep. It's you cause you're all in love with Adam and stuff-"

"Am not!"

"-And he's a guy too, you know." He continued, not acknowledging Dean's outburst.

"O … K…"

"Mmhmm, so I said 'I need a sign.' And then it snowed. You know, I hate snow."

"I know you do." Dean said quietly.

"And then." He yawned again, "And then … I thought… And you…"

"And then, _what_?" Dean asked quickly.

"Mr. Thomas." Said a quiet but stern voice behind him. He kept his eyes glued to his friend's slumber ridden face.

"Mmm?"

"I must ask you to leave."

He sighed deeply, Seamus's eyes flickering closed with a little smile forming on his lips. "Fine." He turned towards her, "Uh. Madam Pomfrey … Is he, er, going to be _alright_" Dean tapped the side of his head in a suggestive manner. The medic gave him a questioning look.

"I believe so, yes. The potion to numb the pain in his head may make him a little groggy, however."

' _A little?'_ He thought.

"Ok, thanks." He pushed the chair away, making move to exit. Suddenly a warm hand caught his wrist.

"Dean?" Asked a sleepy voice. His heartbeat seemed to speed up.

"Yea?"

"Would you go to Mass tomorrow for me?"

"_What?_" He asked slightly louder and much more incredulous than intended; Seamus didn't seem to mind, he just smiled a bit, not opening his hazel-green eyes. "Why?"

"'Cause I can't go."

"So?"

"I need-" He yawned widely, "-you to say thanks for me, 'kay?"

"Uh…?" He shot Pomfrey a helpless look, and she merely shrugged, "… I _guess_ so. What for?"

"Oh." Seamus said with a little secretive smile, "**_He'll_** know."

"…Right…"

"Thanks, Dean." He muttered, dropping the wrist.

"Yea." Dean said, frowning. "No problem."

-----

'_Mass? He wants **me** to go to **Mass**? Is he absolutely freaking insane!'_

"Yes." He said out loud, "Yes he is."

"Who is what?"

"Uh … nothing."

Ginny raised a doubtful eyebrow, but just muttered, "Sure." And turned back to her homework. "What are you doing up so early?" She asked absently.

"Going to Mass."

She froze on the spot, and then slowly turned towards him, eyes wide.

"Mass?"

"Yep."

"As in … _Church?_"

"That's the one, yes."

"As in … Dean-I-Hate-Conformists-And-All-Forms-Of-Organised-Religion-Thomas is going to _Church_?"

"I don't _hate_ organised religion."

"Really?" She said, lowering her quill and crossing her freckled arms over her chest, "That's funny, cause last week you were complaining about the, and I quote, 'Bloody Bible Thumpers who were trying to save me from immortal damnation -- again.'"

"Well…" He said, feeling heat rush to his cheeks, "You would be a little bitter too if the buggers kept telling yelling 'Jesus can heal you! He can save you from your demonic urges!'"

"Hmm, yes, well you put them in their place, I imagine." She said lightly.

"Damn straight." Dean nodded with satisfaction. The look on their faces when he loudly exclaimed _'I happen to **like** my demonic urges, thank-you-very-much.'_ was worth being bothered by the morons. Almost.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, have fun."

"I plan on it." He said stubbornly, "What are _you_ doing up so early?"

"I'm always up early." She stated, picking her quill up again and dipping it into the black ink.

"Oh…"

"Mom has us up early in the summers, and I guess it just stuck. Everyone else can sleep in but me. And Bill, I think." She continued, scratching something out on her parchment. "You should be leaving soon, it starts at 8:30."

"How do you know?"

"Early riser, remember. Seamus is down here every Sunday morning with me." She looked up from her homework; "Hey … Is he going to be all right?"

Dean shrugged and looked away. "Yea, Pomfrey. He was a little ...weird last night. I think it was just the Potion, though."

Ginny nodded remorsefully. "I'll go visit him later."

"Good." Dean said, tying the laces on his trainers. "Ok, I'm off."

"Right." Ginny said offhandedly, her quill scratching.

"Hey Gin." He asked purely out of morbid curiosity, remembering something that Lavender had said the day before.

"Mmhmm?"

"Are you … _dating_ Harry?"

She raised her eyebrows, and then snorted a little. "Uh, no?"

"Why?"

"Just … No _'Chemistry_'."

"Oh."

"You better hurry."

"Right," He said, making his way towards the portrait hole, feeling the ever-growing pit dread growing in his stomach.

He was certain that this would be an experience that he would never forget, and felt doomed as he climbed down the many flights of stairs towards the entrance hall.

Oh … if only he knew…

------

_**TBC**_

_**------**_

Posted October 15 


	2. Chapter Two

_Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.  
**--Norman Vincent Peale**_

-----

**Staunch of the Cynic**

-----

_**Chapter Two: When Hell Froze Over **or** When I, Dean Thomas, Set Foot in A Religious Institution.**_

-----

"Where's Seamus? He should have been here twenty minutes ago!"

"The School Mediwitch sent Father Lawrence an Owl-"

"Blessed Mary-!"

"No, 'tisn't anything like that, Beth- He just had a nasty fall. He'll be here next Sunday."

"Oh Dear- and for a second I thought- Wait! Will he be here for Christmas Mass?"

"'Fraid not. The Medi-witch said he wasn't to leave the school for the week."

"Have you told Anita then? She'll need to rearrange the choir!" The old woman with bright purple sequinned robes gasped with a slightly horrified look on her face.

"Yes, yes, it's all taken care of." The lady with grizzled grey hair and sparkling blue robes said grimly.

Dean watched the two older witches hustle away, and chuckled under his breath: 'Rearrange the choir.'

Seamus Finnigan: choirboy.

Unbelievable. This entire place was.

As the people in the hall slowly filed into the sanctuary, Dean followed behind, hands in pockets and face down. Seamus was a lucky guy- he better know it! Not everyone's best friend would actually suffer through hours of _church_ just because you asked them too while you were hopped up on painkillers.

Stepping into the large room, he was momentarily stunned, and completely surrounded by stained glass- detailed images that were looking down on the congregation and throughout the sanctuary kindly. Moving a couple of steps forward when a large wizard behind him cleared his throat, Dean sat down in the last pew, sliding as close to the corner as he could get.

He glanced up at the very beautiful window above him. There was a woman smiling slightly, placing her hand over her heart and gazing up at an angel who was leaning down from the sky. Dean tilted his head to get a better look. The angel that was reaching down had a bright gold aura surrounding him, white robes and wings, and a head of delicate gold-blond. His face was breath taking, to say the least. Dean could hardly believe it was made of glass- it looked as though the finest details had been stained; he could even make-out eyelashes around brilliant blue eyes.

One of which winked at him.

Dean gasped, and turned away very quickly.

"We Rejoice!"

A booming voice came from the front of the Church.

"-For The Son of Our Lord, and the Father of Mankind was born!" The congregation chanted in unison.

Ok. That was just creepy.

"We Rejoice!"

"For the Holy Mother who held him!"

"We Rejoice!"

"For the-"

"Psst."

"What the-?"

Dean whipped his head around to his right, a short little witch with white hair and bright brown eyes smiled up at him. She had tanned skin that was very wrinkly and sort-of resembled worn leather.

"Page one." She whispered, handing him a thin pile of leaflets and shuffling a little closer to him so she could see them too. On the first page there was a prayer written out.

"Thanks" He said quietly.

The congregation said a simultaneous 'Amen' and then the man in white robes who had began the opening prayer stepped onto a pedestal.

"Good Morning"

"Good morning" The congregation chorused cheerfully.

"Announcements this week. Maria Gildihook is in charge of the annual Christmas bake-off. It proves to be a fun-filled afternoon, and she is in dire need of volunteers. If anyone-"

"Pssst"

Dean turned to the old witch again who was beckoning him forward a little bit with one of her small fingers.

"Yes?"

"Is this your first time, sweetie?" She whispered softly.

"Uh, yea."

"Ah, I see. What brought you here?" She didn't seem to mind that the announcements had all been recited and that the sermon had started.

"A friend." He said quietly, slouching down so he was more at her level. He watched her eyes sparkle, and she smiled, glancing behind his shoulder.

"Where would this friend be, I wonder?"

"He had an accident. He wasn't able to make it."

"Aah. So you are on a mission!"

"Uhm, yea, I guess so."

She was wearing white dress with long sleeves and had a very fine silver chain hung down from her neck. She spoke with a bit of an accent that Dean couldn't really place, but it sounded slightly Mediterranean.

"A mission! Oh, that is fun, yes indeed! I haven't been on a good mission for years and years. This is in fact the first mission I've had since Teddy's passing." She said, bubbling, and ducking her head down a bit more. An elderly couple a few pews in front of them turned around and gave Dean a look. Hey! It hadn't been his fault that the woman wouldn't stop talking. They didn't even _glance_ at her. Pfft. Ageism.

"-I remember once Teddy, that's my husbands name, Lord rest his soul, Teddy was on a mission and he brought me." She got a wistful look in her eyes, "Oh, Teddy was an amazing man, worked for the Ministry, he did. He was a historian by trade, and it took him to many amazing places." She met Dean's gaze, "But he was an artist at heart."

"That's. That's nice." He felt a little unnerved, and tried to pay attention to the sermon.

"Tell me about your friend," the woman asked.

Well, Seamus only said _go_ to Mass. Say a thank-you (not that he really knew how). He didn't say that he had to pay attention.

Dean sighed. Where to begin?

"He's insane."

… Yep, that pretty much summed him up.

The witch smiled.

"I see."

"No, really. He's crazy. He's the most unpredictable person I know. One moment you think that he's studying for Charms, and the next thing you know he's arranging an expedition to climb Mount Everest. He almost never sits still, which is frustrating, 'cause he's _always_ asking me to draw him. And I tell him 'Shay, I can't draw you if you're _moving_' but he always says, 'Well, you've been my best mate for seven years. You _have_ to have a good idea of what I look like by now.'"

"Really?"

"Yea!" He went on, slowly forgetting that he was speaking with a complete stranger. In a church. This woman, who he had no recollection of at all … She was very easy to talk with. In a familiar, comfortable way. Dean was still unnerved… but it was slowly ebbing away. "And he's always coming up with these absurd plans, too. Like last weekend, he really wanted to sneak off to The Three Broomsticks, even though we aren't allowed out after curfew, but other really wanted to go…"

"_No."_

"_Dean. Com'on! It'll be fun._

"_No! It will not be fun. Being in detention is **not** my idea of fun, Seamus."_

"_It's fool-proof!"_

"_Can't be. You came up with it."_

"…"

"_I was calling you a **fool**, Seamus, you're a **fool**."_

"_I knew that."_

"_Sure…"_

"_You'll have fun, I promise. I mean, how could you not? You're with **me!**"_

"_You're a real comedian."_

"_But, Dean…" Seamus sat down at the end of Dean's bed, pulling the book that he had been trying to read away from his face, "We haven't hung out together in ages. Not just me and you._"

"So…" Dean finished, laughing a little, "He ended up using a semi-permanent sticking charm on the caretakers cat! He stuck the thing to the roof! He was so busy trying to get it off, that he didn't even _notice_ that there were kids on the other side of the school sneaking out of bed! And Seamus got a friend of ours to show him a secret passage out of the school, right to Hogsmead. Crazy good at sweet talking people, I guess he's just, I don't know-"

"Charming?"

"…Well, he's _something_."

"It sounds like he cares about you a lot."

…

"Yea. I guess." Dean cleared his throat and stared straight ahead again. The choir had started singing a Christmas carol that he recognised. The witch started singing along, at her own speed, with her own tune.

"…_God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_…"

And then, quite abruptly, she turned to him with a happy little grin.

"It sounds like you care a lot about him, too. Dean."

"…I do."

She nodded, and started to sing again. Well, it was true; he _did_ care a lot about Seamus. More than anyone. He was his best mate, after all, they shared everything with each other. Even the … harder things…

"_I like boys."_

"_You like boys?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Like, you like boys, or you **like** boys?"_

…

"_I **like** boys."_

…

"_Anyone in particular?"_

_You._

"_No. Not really."_

"…"

"…_Seamus?"_

"_Yea?"_

"…_Do you hate me?"_

"_**NO!**"_

"_Oh. Ok. Good."_

"_I was surprised, that's all."_

"_Oh."_

"_I mean, you don't get these type of confessions everyday. I was thinking of the best way to put it in my autobiography. Having a gay best friend makes me, like, ten times more likely to get on the 'Best-Sellers' list! At least! Think of the Drama! Don't yeh think?"_

"…"

"_No?"_

"…"

"…"

"_You're such a twat."_

"_Awe, I feel closer to you too, Dean_!"

"You're very lucky," The witch said, with an unrecognisable tone under her voice, "Very lucky. Yes, and I think that Seamus is just as lucky as you."

"What?"

"It's a rare thing, rare indeed. Yes, at such a young age…"

"_What's_ rare?"

"I met Teddy in the army, you know? I was a nurse, and he was fighting for the side of light. He was such a sweet man, so traditionally wonderful. He was injured—a hex to his leg, and he needed medical attention for days. I was the nurse assigned to him.

"He was sent home to Ireland after that, he couldn't fight anymore, but we corresponded frequently. He married, eventually, and had a little girl. She's a doll, I tell you, and I love her. I was never blessed with children of my own…

"His wife, Enid. She was a pearl, he told me, an absolute pearl. She was warm and caring, and she loved him and his daughter more than the world, but she became very ill shortly after childbirth. Not even the most advanced healer can cure Muggle diseases … Cancer of the blood…"

The witch took a second to clutch the little chain around her neck, before continuing.

"When his wife passed away, he was devastated. I could tell, the letters he was sending … they just weren't _right_. He needed me, so I left my home in Italy, and I came to stay with him. I don't think I have ever seen anyone more surprised in my life! Indeed, I made myself right at home and I wasn't even invited! I took over the housework, and I looked after Ellen. That was the little girl's name, you know. She was only a year old..."

She trailed off, gazing at the high ceiling, smiling.

"We were friends first. That meant ...we were always in love. It just changed. We knew each other, really _knew_ each other. I loved him before I knew that I was in love with him. I loved his daughter; I loved his home and his family. And…"

Dean stayed quiet.

He knew a feeling similar to that…

"Rare. Oh yes, indeed, rare. But so beautiful. And powerful, Aye?"

"Uhm?"

She placed a warm hand on his, and smiled.

"You know, Dean, the thing about love that is strong- it is often mutual."

"Huh?"

"Seamus, he's going through a hard time right now. He knows what he wants, but at the same time, he's worried. He's scared that the love hasn't evolved as it did for Teddy and I. We lived a wonderful, happy life. Ellen grew up and had a beautiful baby boy. And then he grew up. I never met him, neither did Teddy, but we surely love him. And I would want him to be as happy as I am."

Her voice was soft, but every word was clear, and it echoed in Dean's mind…

"W-what …Who-Who _are_ you? How do you know my name?"

"Ah, now. I know a lot of things, Dean Thomas. Indeed! Age brings great wisdom, it does!"

"…_Silent Night, Holy Night_…"

"What are you talking about?"

"What you have, Dean, is wonderful. You have found something that people spend their whole lives searching for! But your mission- it had just began!"

"What Mission?" He said a little loudly, and the couple turned to look at him again, once more ignoring the witch sitting next to him. She chuckled.

"Ah, now _that_, I'm not sure. Only you know."

"No … I really don't. I have _no idea_ what you're talking about!"

"What you have to do is think. Think about what you want- what would make you more … whole…"

So he did.

What _would_ make him more whole? Well … he couldn't really think of anything. He had a nice life, really. He had a wonderful best friend, obviously, was often surrounded by caring and loving people. He had a big family that loved him, even though there were things that set him apart from most normal sons…

He was complete.

" …_Oh Holy Night, The Stars Are Brightly Shining, It Is The Night Of Our True Saviours Birth…"_

Except…

… Except…

"_I love you." Adam said._

"_I love you, too." Dean said back, squeezing the other boy's hand, and smiling a little._

… It had been empty. There was a moment, Dean decided, when he had realised it. Not then, of course, no. He wasn't the type of person who would say something personal like that, and not _mean_ it.

But …

He had taken a look at the great, ever lasting loves that he had been surrounded by…

His mother and father- sure, there had been a fair share of disagreements, some were extremely substancial. But they didn't let it tear them apart. They _wanted_ it to work; they _wanted to be in love_.

And he did too … but he hadn't been. Not love like that.

Was _that_ what she was getting at?

"It most definitely is!"

"Ahh!" He shouted, though the congregation drowned it, singing cheerfully.

"I love this song. Do you know the words? They're on page five, if you don't." The woman gestured at the leaflets of paper in his hand as though she hadn't seen Dean almost jump out of his skin at the prospect of her being inside of his _head_. … _Was she? Oh my god, what if she knows that I'm thinking **right now**! What **is** she?_

"I'm simply a messenger. Or … a path-setter, I suppose. I'm just filling you in, opening your eyes a little. Pushing you in the right direction."

"_What_!"

"I love this church, too." She continued, beaming, "There is so much joy in one room. And love. That's what it's all about, you know? Joy and Peace and Faith and Love. Listen to the singers…"

"… _Fall On Your Knees, And Hear The Angel Voices_…"

"Individually, their voices may be … slightly _sour_, mine certainly is- but _together_. In Unison, in love…"

She closed her eyes, and smiled.

"Beautiful. That's what this much love can do, Dean. It can make things that are bitter-" She gave him a slightly pointed look, but it wasn't by any stretch malice, "-_Beautiful_."

Dean was a little scared… He clutched the pew nervously.

"…_Oh Night Divine, Oh Night When Christ Was Born, Oh Night Divine, Oh Night Divine…_"

"Love isn't always predictable. It isn't always encouraged. There are boundaries. My own family thought that I was foolish, running off to Ireland for a man that I had only met in the army. A man who had but just lost his wife? They thought I was _crazy!_"

"Imagine that…" He said a little faintly.

"But past those things in the way, they are only making the good thing _better._ Do you understand?"

"Not a word."

She laughed, and held both of his hands together in her own.

"You will, my dear! You will indeed! Don't give up! Never despair! You will _always_ have someone. There will _always_ be enough love for you. Always. Don't run from it."

"…_Night When Christ Was Born_…"

He sat there, in silent contemplation. The song ended, the congregation was rising, chattering amongst themselves.

_Don't run from it_.

"What does that _mean_?" He asked turning towards the witch. She smiled and patted one of his hands, still folded in her own.

"I cannot tell you that. Oh, that would spoil it!"

"But-"He said, and she simply shook her head. He sighed in defeat; he was obviously not going to get any answers. Instead, he watched the people slowly file out of the sanctuary, many shaking hands and grinning at one another, wishing each the best for the holidays. The feeling of the room was almost unworldly- there seemed no single word that could describe it.

"Christmas"

He turned to the witch, and felt her release his hand. She looked at him directly in the eyes.

"It is magical. Not the magic that can be manipulated and focused by a wand. Oh no! This is _real_ magic. Magic that can be felt by people everywhere, Muggle and wizard alike." She patted his hand once more, "Yes. Magical things can happen at Christmastime. Magical…"

She stood, hopping off the pew, and out of politeness drilled into him at a young age, Dean stood as well. She came to about his middle, and tilted her chin upwards, gazing thoughtfully towards him.

"Enjoy your Christmas, Dean."

"You too." He said, dumbfounded… She turned away. "Wait!"

"Yes?"

He'd almost forgotten. "I, uh …" She smiled encouragingly, "Well … I'm supposed to say 'Thank-you' but …" He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed, "I really don't know what he meant. How?"

Her kind face brightened, "I think that you coming this morning was just enough."

"But-"

"Goodbye, Dean!" She said, and all at once she disappeared within the group of much taller individuals who crowded the aisle leading out of the sanctuary.

"Yea." He said quietly, in a daze, "Goodbye"

-------

"What was that?"

He heard a boy snickering behind him, and wiped the blob of mud that hit him square in the back off his robes.

"Ron, you are going _down_" He laughed, chasing after the redhead, who slipped in the mud, and was lurched forwards into a puddle. Dean smacked him (unnecessarily harder than he would have any of the other boys. Revenge, and such)

"No fair, I slipped."

Dean shrugged, "More fair than attacking me from behind, I'd bet." He grinned, and gave the boy another shove, sending him in the mud again, "Teach you to mess with a black belt!"

"You're not a black belt, you moron!" Another boy called from up the hill.

"Hey, mind your own business, twerp!" He called back, grinning, "Or you'll meet a similar demise!"

"I'm shaking in my boots. Really."

"Is that sarcasm, Finnigan?"

Seamus held a hand over him mouth, gasping, "Sarcasm? _Me_? Oh, Dean. You _can_ be cruel."

"Yea." Dean said mildly from below, so Seamus had to take a few steps forwards in the mud to hear what he was saying. "I sure _can be_!"

He lunged, making a grab for the shorter boy's middle, but Seamus leapt out of the way, laughing like mad. "Some black belt."

"Ah! Shows how little you know,"

"I'm sure."

"See, in, uh, black-belt school, they teach you how to-" Made another attempt, this time almost knocking Seamus down, but he jumped away just in time.

"-Be a goon?"

"No!" Dean said, taking a few steps to the side, eyes not leaving Seamus's, "I was going to say to attack when your opponents guard is down."

"Oh, I see." Seamus laughed, "You must have been sick that lesson."

"No, I wasn't. But I am sick of being a black-belt."

"Really?" Seamus said victoriously.

"Yea." Dean said, bending down and grabbing a handful of mud, "I'm solving this Ron's way…"

Seamus eyed it testily.

"You wouldn't."

"Really?"

"No. Too nice."

"_Really?"_

"How much you wanna bet?"

"…"

Dean grinned, and brought his arm behind his head, aiming for Seamus's stomach. Seamus's eyes widened.

"Oh my _God_! What _is_ that?"

"What?" Dean turned around in the direction that Seamus was staring.

_Fwaap._

"Heheheheheh!"

"Seamus…"

"Dean?"

"You." He said, touching the back of his head, feeling mud between his thick curls, "Are _so_ dead."

"Got to catch me first!" He was off like a shot, over the hill, giggling like mad. The chase was fairly short, Dean bounded after him watched him sprint towards Hagrid's cabin, avoiding mud-puddles nimbly and cackling. Seamus felt Dean catching up, and turned quickly towards the forest. He ducked as a mudball came whizzing past his head. He heard a quickly muttered 'shit', and grinned to himself as the heavy footfalls behind him slowed to a stop.

"Dean, Dean, Dean." He skidded to a halt, turning to see his friend resting his body against a thick-trunked birch, panting slightly, "What you lack in athletic ability-" he pattered towards him, laughing, "You make up for in personality."

"Oh, piss off."

"That's the one I was talking about."

"Seamus-"

"You can just be so pleasant sometimes. Never sarcastic, oh no, not Dean! Saints forbid that a sarcastic comment comes forth from that mouth. Witty, now that could happen, but _sarcasm_-"

"Shay-"

"It's part of your overall charm, really. I'm sure that the ladies love it"

"Seamus-"

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure … you should have been a Ravenclaw. I think. You would make a perfect one-"

"Seamus!" Dean said, pushing him foot against the tree and propelling himself towards the other boy, grasping him by the shoulders, "Would you shut up!"

"Why?" He smiled innocently, though suddenly there was a little burst of … well, _something_ that he couldn't quite put his finger on, right in the centre of his chest. Dean's grip loosened, but he didn't pull away. That's when Seamus noted their close proximity. So close, in fact, that he could feel Dean's definite aura of warmth that contrasted sharply with the bitter cold that enveloped them. It was very nice …

"Because." Dean said the word calmly, and one hand moved from Seamus's shoulder, along his collarbone, and just below his chin. Chocolate brown eye, so sure of themselves, bore into Seamus's own, though he was certain that his hazel eyes gave no illusion of confidence. He released a shuddering breath, unsure what was happening, but to frightened that- should he question it- the surrealism of the moment would disintegrate. He would hate that.

"Because why?" He asked anyway. Damn his inherited Irish curiosity!

"Because" Dean said again, stepping so close that their bodies were touching in some spots, Dean's arm across his chest, "When you talk so much, I can't do this."

Dean leaned closer, and instinctually Seamus raised his head, relaxed his lips, and closed his eyes…

"Do you need more potion?"

"What?"

He jerked his entire body suddenly, and regretted it just a moment later when a wave of pain shot through him. He cringed, and squinted at the bright white bed-hangings…

"More potion. For your head?"

"Uhm." He slowly fell into recognition as a blurred figure that must have been Madame Pomfrey began to focus above him. His head? He tried to sit up, but felt very dizzy. Laying down again he nodded meekly.

She disappeared, and Seamus had a flash of purple foaming potion in his memory. He grimaced; everything after that moment was groggy and unclear in his mind. Thankfully, when she returned she was carrying a clear liquid that was giving off just a bit of steam.

"Can you sit up?" she asked, and he tried, slower this time, scooting back so he could support himself on the headboard. She handed him the potion. "Watch then, it's hot."

"What happened?" he asked, sniffing it, and deciding it wasn't _too_ unpleasant, sipping carefully.

"You fell." She said, straightening the sheets on a neighbouring bed, "cracked your head on the ground as Thomas puts it."

"Dean?"

"Yes, yes. The tall one in your dorm. He said that you slipped on the ice. How's your foot?"

His foot? He looked down and saw that his right ankle was wrapped in white bandage. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

"Uh, it's ok, thanks."

"Good." She said folding a thicker blanket, "The potion worked. I never know who'll react or not, so many immunities to simple pain numbing potions, indigestion curing potions too. If parents weren't feeding them excessively to children whenever they had a little ache-"

She carried on, and Seamus turned so he was looking out the window. A think blanket of snow covered the grounds, still untouched by students. It must have been early.

"Excuse me, ma'am." He said, noting how dry he throat was. He sounded pathetic, and cleared it before continuing, "What's the time."

She stopped mid rant, and pulled a little watch from her pocket, "Three quarters eight." She said, replacing it "It's simple biology, really. Even Muggles have seen similar effects in their most effective anti-bacterial medications. What was it again? Penicillin, I think-"

There was a very quiet rapping at the door, and a redheaded girl followed, leaning in cautiously. She saw Seamus and smiled.

"Hey Sweetie, how're you feeling?" She asked quietly, taking a few steps in. The mediwitch glared at her, but Seamus grinned.

"Like I've been hit by a couple hundred bludgers, thanks!" Seamus said cheerfully, looking behind her expecting to see his best friend. He quickly shook away the disappointment- Dean wasn't an early riser. He'd probably come by later. "What's up?"

"Just coming to check up on my second favourite Irish-man," She said happily, and Seamus wrinkled his brow.

"The first?"

"Bono."

"Ah," He said, "I'm humbled."

Sitting at the end of his bed, she adjusted the sheets around his knees, "You're ok?"

"We've cover this one, I think. Bludgers, Ginny. Lots of them."

"You know what I mean." Her voice was joking, but there was an undeniable tone of concern that made Seamus feel a little mushy.

"Yea." He said, finally, "I'll be alright. I'm not exactly sure what happened. I was in- _on_ the path to Hogwarts-"He caught himself mid-sentence, "-Right after Practice, aye? So I'm heading into town, and I must have slipped or something. I woke up here, I think, last night. I can't really remember."

"Oh." She said finally, looking up at his head, "Nice bruise."

"Yea?" he said, fingering the skin above his right eyebrow, wincing at the pain, "Ouch, is it big?"

"Nah, just…well, here." She reached into her bag and passed him a small makeup compact, flipping it open, "

Glancing into the mirror, he grimaced, "I look like I was in a fight." He touched the scratch on his cheek, "And didn't win."

"Seamus, you're 5'6". You wouldn't have won anyway."

"Piss off." He laughed, tossing the compact back at her lap. She chuckled and put it into her purse, "I happen to be a black-belt." He suddenly thought of Dean … the dream…

Colour rushed to his cheeks.

If Ginny noticed the blush, she chose not to comment on it. "A black-belt? Not you. Far to delicate."

"Hey!" He said, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting, "If you're just here to insult me-"

"Sorry, sorry." She shook her head, smiling, and reached into her bag again, 'Here, I brought you this."

She pulled out a box of chocolate frog, a quidditch magazine, and-

"How'd you get this?" he asked suddenly, grasping the leather-bound book from her, staring at it in awe.

"Harry let me into the dorm." She said a little guiltily, appraising him slightly as he gaped at it, weighing it in his hands "I don't want to sound presumptuous or anything, but you have it with you every Sunday morning, and I thought you might want it now. You know, just cause it's almost Christmas, and you can't go, but you obviously _wanted_ to..." She trailed off uncertainly, "Advent crap or something. It might be a bit hokey, but it seemed to mean a lot to you."

"That was …" He started, letting his fingers trail over the bible's spine, "Nice. Thanks." He looked up at her and smiled, "I'm sure Harry _loved_ the early wake up call."

Ginny laughed, and shook her head, "He said they'd been up for a while, and then complained about how Dean wasn't nearly as good at sneaking out quietly in the morning as you were."

"Sneaking out?"

"Yea, he woke them all up, I guess."

Seamus furrowed his eyebrows at her, "Why was he up so early?"

Ginny gave him a strange look, "Well, I figured that it had been _your_ doing. He wouldn't have normally…"

"He wouldn't have normally what?" Seamus asked, "What did he do?"

"Well," She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear out of nervous habit, "He got up early and went to…" Seamus nodded in encouragement, "Uh, to Mass."

…

They sat in silence for a second before:

"You're kidding!" Seamus laughed loudly.

"Am not!"

Seamus clutched his side, rolling towards the centre of the bed, "Dean? Dean _Thomas_? Dean-I-Hate-Conformists-And-All-Forms-Of-Organised-Religion-Thomas went to Church? Forgive me for being a little sceptical!"

"Well he did." She glanced down at her watch, "It's over now. He'll be back soon."

Seamus's eyes widened. The sun had moved in such a way that it bounced merrily from the Hogwart's lawn and into his face, blinding him. He felt the potion bubble uncomfortably in his stomach. "Oh."

Ginny shifted awkwardly, chewing on one of her nails, "Yea." She stood, and carefully made her way towards the window, surveying the grounds.

"Did he give a reason?"

"No." said Ginny, still facing away from him, "I thought that you must have asked him to or something."

"I can't remember." He trailed off weakly, sinking into the stiff hospital-wing bed, "Even if I did- I mean, I wasn't in my right mind or anything. He would have known that. So…" Ginny turned towards him, "Why?"

It was such a simple question. One word. Three letters.

"I don't know."

------

_Posted January 28 2006_


End file.
